The Long Walk continued . . .

On entering Kings Langley I began to see some of the places I knew a little about: The 'Jolly Miller' where haycarts passed on their way; the Blacksmith shop on the frontage; the new Post Office; the Village Church; and the school which I had attended. There were no lodgings in Kings Langley.

Dad said that under no circumstances must the village policeman see us.

Near Toovey's Mill a haystack was in process of being built. "Stay here, son. I will check around."

A few minutes later he returned.

"OK. That will do for us for tonight. Nearby is a running stream for us to freshen up in the morning."

As we moved around, I heard singing. When the sound became clearer I saw an old man with a beard.

"Count your blessings name them one by one…" he kept repeating.

"Take this penny to him, son. It's the poor that helps the poor."

Almost at once, the village policeman appeared and spoke to the bearded gentleman.

Dad said, "Come on son, it's time we made ourselves scarce."

We retreated to a small meadow with a high hedge.

"Sit down. We will talk until the dust settles. What I mean son, the PC would come to us and ask some questions I would prefer not to answer.

"What a funny world we live in. The haves and the have nots. The good and the bad. The kind and the unkind.

"In about two days we should be in Ealing, about 20 miles away. Ealing is where you were born and where I married your mother. You have many aunts and uncles there. I wonder what their reactions will be."

"What's reactions dad?" I said.

"You will see, son when we get there."

The same routine. Mother Earth was our pillow.

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